


ebriae

by pilzformig



Category: Homestuck
Genre: (mentioned) - Freeform, Alcohol, F/F, Friends to Lovers, House Party, Humanstuck, Internalized Homophobia, Lesbian Sex, Lowercase, POV Rose Lalonde, POV Second Person, Reading Aloud, Run-On Sentences, Stream of Consciousness, Trans Female Character, Trans Kanaya Maryam, Waltzing, a little. been reading patrick white lately so that crept in more than usual, doesnt really affect the story but idk. drinkign ages etc, gratuitous Latin, gratuitous catullus, no beta we die like men, set in australia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:21:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28610493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pilzformig/pseuds/pilzformig
Summary: rose and kanaya hook up at a party for the first time <3 they love each other
Relationships: Rose Lalonde/Kanaya Maryam
Kudos: 18





	ebriae

**Author's Note:**

> this is incredibly self-indulgent lol since ive been going to a lot of parties this summer (dw, covid cases have been pretty much nonexistant for Months where i live!), and i just. love to transfer experiences and feelings ive had into homestuck fics.  
> also self-indulgents cos ok @ myself wow, more latin? yes.  
> probably awful bc i wrote this in a bit of a rush i had the thought of rosemary fucking at a party and i was immediately compelled to write it all down as quickly as possible. theyre in love.  
> (title means 'drunk' in latin, in the feminine plural nominative form)

you hold your wine glass between three fingers and a thumb, looking around the party. you’re at vriska and terezi’s place, which is far enough away from civilization, so-called, that it’s cheap _and_ spacious. meant they had to commute like forty minutes if they wanted to go to town to watch a movie or whatever, but they didn’t go to uni, and terezi had a job as a farmhand nearby, so it worked well for them. and it worked well for the rest of you, because they could throw banger parties and let everyone stay the night on the floor.

currently, dave is engaged in a very involved looking conversation with karkat on the couch, both of them rambling even more than usual due to being a few vodka shots in. jade is mixing horrific looking concoctions with terezi and vriska at the counter in the kitchen (oh god, is vriska adding hot sauce?), dirk, looking stoned out of his mind, is drawing furiously at a table, hunched over, and you do _not_ want to see what wretched things his ganked mind is making him put onto paper. you remind yourself to ask him for a joint if you see him later though.

you are leaning against the back of a couch, alone, because kanaya is in the bathroom at the moment. you take a dainty sip of your wine (white, vintage, entirely unsuited to this environment, but you’ve gotta keep up appearances). you’re wearing an ankle length black skirt and a purple t-shirt tucked in, and black lipstick which you’re not even bothering to reapply at this point. it stains your wine glass in a crescent shape.

kanaya walks back into the room. you’re matching in your long skirts, hers dark green velvet, paired with a black floral blouse. she smiles at you, and then pauses at the counter to retrieve her drink (same kind of glass as you, but filled with red wine), and spends a moment talking to vriska and terezi and jade. probably commenting on their creations. you watch her as she stands there, the curve of her back under her blouse, her hair curling at the top of her neck, the way she bends her wrists so elegantly.

you feel guilty for a moment, creepy, but you tell yourself, firmly, that there’s nothing wrong with admiring your beautiful best friend. you’re gay, she’s gay, literally everyone at this party is gay and out, and you’re not a predator. wow, those were some deep buried feelings you thought you got over years ago. cringe, but whatever. you don’t focus on them anymore because kanaya is walking over towards you, nose scrunched in delicate disgust. definitely admonishing vriska for the drinks, then.

she leans beside you against the couch and clinks your glasses together. 

“have you seen what horrible things they’re cooking up over there?” she asks.

“only from afar. i’m choosing not to take a closer look.”

“a wise choice.”

there’s a tiny point of contact between your hip and hers. you would like to say you try not to think about it, but in truth you think about it a lot and very hard, and don’t make any attempt not to. would that she were to move closer…

maybe she can read your mind, because she lifts her hip up to adjust her skirt under her, and this means that she leans over slightly towards you, so that you can feel her hair against your temple and her forearm on yours. as quickly as she’s there, she’s gone again, entirely, that tiny point of contact too.

you sigh, and a moment of silence passes before you begin chatting to kanaya about whatever random topic you’ve been reading up on lately (the satanic panic, the bombing of dresden, the begram ivories). she interjects when she is wont, and you’re both happy and drunk, glad to be here with each other, words sloppy and enthusiastic.

at some point someone turns the music up, and people get up to dance, badly (but that’s ok, that’s good, even). jake seems to barely be aware there are even other people here.

“do you know how to waltz?” kanaya asks.

“in theory,” you reply.

“you mean, you’ve read the wikipedia page and maybe seen a diagram and at some point watched a youtube video? or a period drama?”

“pretty much, yeah.”

a beat of silence

“do you want me to teach you?” she asks.

you let out a breath.

“yeah.”

you set your drinks town and turn to face each other.

“i only know the girls’ part, so…”

she sets her hand on your shoulder, holds yours with her other.

“yours goes on my- here”

she removes her hand from your shoulder and uses it to guide yours to rest at the small of her back.

the whole world has reduced to just the two of you.

she teaches you the basic steps, and you wobble, clutch onto her, at one point almost fall and accidentally pull her flush against you in your attempt not to topple back. you feel her hip bone against yours, her breasts, and you look down and giggle with her.

once you’ve mastered the steps, she looks around and says, “there’s not enough room for us in here. besides, the music isn’t exactly ideal.”

 _jump around_ by house of pain is playing, so, you concur, not exactly waltz music.

“there’s room on the road,” you say. vriska and terezi don’t really have a backyard.

kanaya considers. “well, there aren’t really many cars out here…”

“come on! come come come” you say, sliding a hand down her arm to hold her hand and pull her to the door. she murmurs “phrasing” (you giggle) before allowing herself to be led, smiling.

once out the door you skip towards the road. you spin around, laughing, looking up at the stars, then pulling your arms into your chest and grinning at kanaya.

“perfect! look at all this room. and it’s such a lovely, cool night…”

“yes,” kanaya says, hissing on the ‘s’ and trailing off. “well, my lady? a dance?”

“thank you, my lady,” you answer, lowering your head and looking at her through your eyelashes, giving a coy smile. you resume your dance position, hands on shoulders on waists in hands.

“so, usually the one in your position will lead the other around, but you have no idea what you’re doing, so i’ll do my best to drag you.”

she sets off before you’re ready, fast, spinning, pulling you around with her. you do your best to do the steps, but end up tangled, laughing, looking at the gleam of moonlight in kanaya’s eyes before you’re breaking apart so as not to pull the other to the ground.

you let out a raucous laugh. “wonderful!”

kanaya’s smiling the way you do when you’re trying not to laugh.

“let’s try that again, shall we?” she asks. “i’ll count us in this time.”

“probably a good idea.”

you try again, and this time, with the count in, you manage to get into a rhythm that’s fairly okay for two tipsy girls.

“oh wow, that’s so fun!” you say when you slow to a stop. you stay holding each other though.

“isn’t it!?” she says, squeezing your hand.

“we’ll have to try it again when we’re not drunk.”

she hums agreement, and the two of you return inside.

the night goes on: you talk to more people, have more drinks, end up on the floor more. at some point some vague friends of karkat’s show up: a girl in cat ears (you admire her complete lack of shits given) who looks in slight fear at the mess made on the counter before ignoring all that and making herself tea, a guy who seems to be sweating profusely despite just having come in from the cool, and a girl who seems to be wearing a necklace made out of various bones (you admire her style and hope you remember at some point to ask if she takes commissions). 

you overhear dave and the girl in bones chatting eagerly about dead things, the girl in cat ears teasing karkat light-heartedly about something, and god, do you feel so happy here and now, drunk on good feelings and vodka shots, god oh no ok this is getting dumb and cliché, but you don’t care, you don’t, you’re just dancing lightly to the music and grinning at kanaya and grinning and grinning.

at some point, tiring of the noise and people a little, you wind up in an empty room, wedged between some item of furniture and the wall, reading catullus (you always bring a book with you, no matter where or with which people. And you really enjoy reading while drunk). the copy you’re reading now has the original latin texts parallel to english translations, but in your state it’s much easier to just focus on the english.

“rose! there you are!” it’s kanaya. there’s no one you want to see more.

“kanayaaaaaa!” you slur, twisting your head around to see her. 

“i was looking for you. you tend to run off on your own a lot you know.”

“yes yes i know. people get to be- to be too much. gotta have time alone before i can get back out there you know. besides holy shit kanaya have you read this guy his poems are incredible.”

kanaya comes to sit down beside you. she looks at the book in your hands and you see her redden slightly and you think oh fuck oops that’s right carmen 16 is on the page right now uhhhh-

“incredible, huh?” she smirks, still not able to lose her composure entirely.

“look, look ok,” the party in the other room seems to have calmed down a little; some lorde song is playing instead of pummeling eurobeat. “yes, some of his poems are like this one y’know. ‘i’ll fuck your face’ and all that. but listen. listen to me kanaya oh my god some of his poems are sososo beautiful let me- let me read this one to you.”

you thumb clumsily through the pages until you reach poem 48, and begin reading it out loud.

_“your honeyed eyes, iuuentius,  
if someone let me go on kissing,  
i’d kiss three hundred thousand times  
nor never think i’d had enough,  
not if our osculation’s crop  
were closer-packed than dried corn-ears”_

you pause and soak up the ambience, the words of the poem hanging in the air. it’s not your favourite translation, but this is the only copy you have with you and you can’t remember any others right now.

“and,” you start, “its even more beautiful in the latin, i’d read it all out now if i weren’t afraid of stumbling the pronunciation, but the first two lines – _mellitos oculos tuos, iuuenti, siquis me sinat basiare_ , i love them so much, sometimes i say them in my head and out loud over and over again, and then in line 5, _aridis aristis_ , the assonance, god, i love.. i love it.”

silence again. kanaya’s smiling, not a huge cheek-to-cheek grin, but the kind of little smile you know on her means she’s truly happy. she rests her head on your shoulder.

“he wrote lots of love poems. lots of them are addressed to his lover, lesbia-”

“lesbia, huh.”

now it’s your turn to redden. 

you think about explaining the whole historical context behind it, how in this situation it doesn’t even mean anything to do with girls loving girls, but instead you put the book on the ground, put a hand on kanaya’s cheek, and kiss her on the mouth.

kanaya responds immediately, passionately, like she’s been waiting for this all night. you feel like you’ve been waiting for this since you met her. no, you’ve been waiting for this your whole life. her tongue is hot and slick in your mouth and her teeth nip at your bottom lip and you sigh and there’s a pause and then your hands are all over each other, on backs on sides on stomachs and tits, and you climb onto her lap and feel her hardness against your crotch. you grind down on her and she stutters, exhales shakily, eyebrows drawn up.

“i feel like i’ve loved you forever,” she says.

you respond by sucking a fat fucking hickey on her neck.

“is that a ‘me too, kanaya, i love you with more heat than there is in a thousand suns’?”

“yeah,” you murmur against her neck.

soon she’s rubbing at your pussy through your skirt, and you get up on your knees so that she can pull your skirt up over your head and off, and then you’re looking at her with your bared thighs and your pussy dripping onto her hand, and you grab her face and kiss her again and pull up her skirt to tug her cock out of her stupid sexy black lacy underpants. you run your hand over its length, kiss its tip, and she shudders and you wrap a hand around it for her to thrust into. when you take your hand away she chases it with her hips. her cock is red and straining, leaking precum, and it’s the second prettiest thing ever, after her face.

you take each others shirts off next, looking at each other without restraint, without shame, and then your bras are gone and you suck and bite at her nipples, and she pinches yours, and you pull each other close and its only her dick her tits her hot mouth on your neck you’re alive you’re alive you’re alive and you love her.

and then she tugs your underwear aside and presses two of her (long, so long) fingers inside you and you feel like no, no, you’ve passed feeling alive and you’re dying right here and now and you don’t want anything else. she gets a third finger in and thumbs your clit and god is it hard to concentrate on stroking her cock but you try your damnedest.

she, somehow, gets you to come around her fingers in record time, shaking, your eyes closed and squeezing tears out. hands on her shoulders now, you can barely hold yourself up as she works you through your orgasm. you whisper her name and breathe heavily for what feels like forever, until sinking down and taking her cock in your mouth. 

you take her down a few times before thinking about coming up and saying ‘i’m not exactly experienced, sorry, god, i really have no idea what im doing,’ but her head is thrown back and the back of her hand is pressed to her mouth and you don’t think she could say anything if she wanted to. so you just keep doing what you’re doing, trying not to graze your teeth along her length, and eventually she starts shuddering and bucking up into your mouth, and you take it, you take it, you’ve never really had a gag reflex anyway, and then she’s coming down your throat and you’re clutching at her hip with one hand and using the other to rub at your clit again.

you come off her cock with a wet pop. she, with limbs tired post-orgasm, guides your face to hers for a kiss, a slow one this time. you collapse onto her, draping your body over her, and she hugs you back tight as she can.

you come into the other room some time later, disheveled, hair mussed, hickey already forming on kanaya’s long neck, and announce you are getting an uber and going home (the ‘together’ is very obviously implied). you hear terezi and vriska shrieking as you walk out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> catullus 16 is the poem that starts with ' _pedicabo ego uos et irrumabo_ ' which means 'i will sodomise and facefuck you'. the translation i used for 48 was guy lee :).  
> i hope u enjoyed, i die for comments <33


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